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Page 44
"Do you mean the king has ordered that you marry me?" Alinor faltered.
Ian lifted his eyes from the rug. He had not been sure what to expect, but an explosive and perhaps revolted refusal had been a strong possibility. He knew Alinor was practical enough to realize that another husband was an eventual necessity, even if only to protect her from overinsistent suitors. Three months was a rather short time, although great heiresses were often remarried within weeks of their previous mates' deaths. On the other hand, few marriages were blessed with the single-minded devotion Alinor and Simon felt for each other.
In terms of Alinor's immediate reaction, however, that had worried Ian less than the fear that she might recoil from marriage to him as from incest. He had never dared probe how Alinor felt about him, and all these months that he had been arguing the question in his mind had brought no clarification. One gesture he brought to memory would seem to betray in Alinor a fear similar to his owna fear that too great intimacy would lead to attraction. Another, just as clear, pointed to the sexless friendship a healthy man had for another. Still another bespoke the tenderness of a sister to a brother. The last was the most dangerous. There was no sign of revulsion in Alinor's face, however, merely confusion.
"Ordered?" Ian repeated. "No. My purpose, in truth, is to have you safe from him before he remembers you are alive. We were fortunate that the news about Simon came just at the height of the siege. The king had no time to think about it. Since then, I have taken good care that no one should bring it to his mind."
Alinor's thoughts were beginning to come straight. "This was something you decided upon yourself?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied shortly.

 
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